


Performance Evaluation

by makesometime



Series: Friday One Word Challenge Fics [14]
Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fear of Discovery, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for Friday One Word Challenge – Week 17</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance Evaluation

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Taylor/Wash – Performance and After Hours [prompted by](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/176963.html?thread=1595203#t1595203) losthaven in the [Friday One Word Challenge – Week 17](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/176963.html)

Alicia finds her Friday nights are generally a varied affair. She's never lived a nine-to-five existence, never known the pleasure of the last work day of the week before a couple of days rest; her time off is usually more extended and sometimes not taken willingly.

So she never finds herself with set plans for each of these hallowed evenings, usually getting drafted into a poker game by Malcolm or Jim, or late night sparring with Mark. Sometimes Nathaniel joins her at these but more often than not he stays in Command, catching up on paperwork before joining her at home after her escapades. Naturally, it is therefore most likely to find her there too of a Friday, bottle of whiskey between them on the conference room table as they fully immerse themselves in their task and the other's quiet company.

Tonight is one of the last Fridays of summer, a humid, sultry night that promises a storm on the horizon. The windows of Command are completely open to promote what little airflow exists and the noise of people down in the plaza carries easily to their ears. It is nice, in its way, to be reminded of the happiness of the colonists, the contentment of the citizens following the Phoenix Group's actions. But at the same time, it is horribly distracting on an evening where focussing on much of anything is an incredibly big ask.

Alicia gives up on working somewhere around her second measure of liquor, settles for watching Nathaniel work instead. He smiles, just a little, when he recognises her gaze on him but doesn't stop working, hands moving over the plexes without a moment's hesitation. Not even when her now bootless foot slides its way up the leg of his fatigues...

"Wash."

She hums, sipping her drink. "Yes sir?"

"Any particular reason you're staring at me?" He smirks when her foot travels higher. "And suffering from wandering limbs?"

She shrugs, reaches for the bottle and tops up her glass, doing the same to his before he can protest. "Can't concentrate."

"Why not?"

"Too hot."

His eyes flick to hers for the first time. "Not fair to blame the weather for your distraction."

She licks her lips, catching stray drops of whiskey as she leans closer to him and lowers her voice. "Too horny."

His breath catches in his throat at the heat in her eyes, a quick cough allowing him the composure to look away from her. "That sounds like more of a valid argument." He says, grasping her foot (mid-thigh, encroaching fast) and placing it on the floor. "Doesn't clear this workload though."

Alicia sighs, chin falling into an upturned hand. "What's so important that it can't wait for half an hour?"

A raised eyebrow. "Half an hour?"

"For starters." She grins.

Nathaniel's eyes close (a way, she thinks, of stopping himself looking at her) before fixing resolutely back on the work in front of him.

She lets her foot wander again, tracing over an area on his calf where she knows there to be a scar, a strangely sensitive place on his body that she doesn't often get the chance to exploit. "What are you working on that's so damn interesting?"

It's his turn to hum, a sound of amusement as he swallows down some of his drink. "Performance evals."

Alicia chuckles – he gets a sinister kind of pleasure from the terror those words evoke in his men, she should really have seen his answer coming. "Who's your victim?"

His cool blue eyes switch back up to her as he answers, a dark kind of glee in their depths. "You."

Alicia's lips quirk and she downs the rest of her drink before rising out of her chair and skirting around the table. "How am I doing?"

One shoulder raises listlessly. "Well enough."

She situates herself behind him, hands on his upper back as fingertips dig into his tight muscles. He lets out a pleased little groan, drops the plex to the table and deprives her of her chance to spy. "Well enough?" She parrots, focussing her attention on the places that make him melt into her touch. "Anything I can do to... up my rating?"

He laughs, a deep rumble that vibrates through him and through her by association. "Personally speaking there's plenty, but nothing I should be including in your official record."

Her hands move up and over his shoulders, down to rest over his pecs as she leans to hover her mouth by his ear. "Alicia Washington. Model soldier, loyal citizen to the colony. Pros: insatiable, dedicated, gives head without protest. Cons..." She pauses, thinking. "Insatiable." She teases. "Loud, has a kink for almost getting caught..."

He moans when her tongue flicks out to circle the shell of his ear. "You forgot 'easily distracted'." He murmurs as her mouth tracks down his neck to the curve where it meets his shoulder.

"Oh really?" She asks, laughs breathily as her hands tighten on his chest. "That sounds like a challenge, sir."

He doesn't have a chance to reply before she's removed her hands from him and curled them around the back of his chair. She pulls sharply and he lifts his feet to allow her to create some space between him and the table. Then she moves around him to kneel on the floor, resting her palms on his knees. 

"Challenge accepted?" He asks.

A nod of her head and the way she parts his legs is confirmation enough, but still the words leave her mouth. "Challenge accepted."

–

It would take a bigger man than him to not admit to enjoying the sight of his second on her knees, hands gripping hard on his thighs, lips wrapped around his length.

But for as much as she lists 'loud' as one of her cons, it's one of his too – though he'll happily argue that to expect him to be quiet when her tongue is circling his tip, collecting the moisture there before she engulfs him once more is really too much to ask. He manages to hold out on making a sound for what feels like a lifetime until he lets his hands fall to her head, tangling in tresses she released the minute her shift was over. She purrs around him when his fingers tighten and it's this added sensation that draws the first grunt of pleasure from him.

The guards on duty this evening are in their less defensive positions, patrolling around the base of Command rather than outside the doors to his office. But with every possible aperture save the doors opened to their full extent, the need to muffle their actions is paramount.

He's a mere moment away from tugging her to her feet and over his lap when they pick up the sound of boots on the stairs and she freezes when he holds her steady. The doors are locked, he knows they are, but that doesn't erase the issue presenting itself – Wash would sooner take herself out than be caught in such a submissive position by one of her boys (though they both know there's nothing submissive about her choice to pleasure him in this way). He lets her release him but she stays where she is as the doors rattle briefly before the footsteps move closer.

"Evening Commander." 

He watches her face fall as they hear Jim Shannon's greeting from the open window. His speech is a little slurred, he's clearly well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor and appears not to have immediately figured out what he's interrupted.

"Shannon." He greets, picking up a plex and not turning around for fear of exposing the woman at his feet.

"You seen Wash?" 

He feels her relieved exhale on the wet skin of his erection and it's a battle not to cry out to this alone; she looks up to see his jaw locked with the force of not reacting and there's suddenly a kind of mischief on her face that wouldn't be there had she not eased the way with some alcohol – and had he not challenged her to avoid distraction. She leans forward, safe in the knowledge that she is unseen and licks a broad strip up him with the flat of her tongue.

He clears his throat heavily to hide the groan that fights to escape, shakes his head (at Jim or Wash he isn't sure). "Not recently."

Jim seems particularly unconcerned by the brevity of his replies, which is helpful when the head of his length is brushing the roof of Wash's mouth as she swallows him down once more, braver (more foolish) in the face of their continued secrecy.

"If you do, tell her we're waiting for her at Boylan's, we've got a hell of a poker game brewing."

Jim raps the frame of the window twice before stalking off, his footfalls fading on the stairs as Wash draws off of him before plunging back down three times in quick succession.

"Enough, enough." Nathaniel groans, throwing the plex back on the table. "Get up here."

With something oddly close to a giggle she stands, quickly stripping off her fatigues. His hands reach for her hips at the same moment at she straddles him and he pulls her down, her knees buckling to press her wet heat along him. They groan at the sensation and Wash brings her hand down to guide him inside her, sinking down with an ease that both are grateful for.

"You weren't wrong about your kink." He mutters, using his existing grip to draw her upwards when she remains resolutely seated upon him.

"It's only Shannon, he's seen worse." She responds, stealing a brief kiss. "But at least I recognise my failings – and try to improve them."

Nathaniel laughs, a hand coming back to her hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She bucks against him as he tugs for a split second, grinning as her eyes fall closed. "Who evaluates you, sir?"

He sighs as she leans forward, arms looping around his neck to ensure she puts pressure on her clit with each stroke. "Perk of command, Wash."

"Can I?" She asks, nails combing through his hair.

He fixes her with a curious glance – at both her question and the time of asking it. But nods anyway.

"Pros..." She starts, a gasp interrupting her as he pulls her down harshly. "Strong. Fantastic, _ah_ , leader. Good with your hands. Handsome. You listen. You're fair and just. Painfully intelligent." She grins as he brings his mouth to her neck, nips along her skin as she rocks against him.

"Cons: You know all of those things. You keep things from people when they could help. You like to be in control too much and could do with letting go sometimes."

"That so?"

"That's my evaluation, sir."

He tilts his head, regards her dangerously. "Letting go, you say?"

Wash smiles, ready to reply when he stands suddenly, taking her weight and letting her fall back onto the table, messily swiped clear of plex pads at the last moment. She gasps, breath stolen by the impact and just about manages to stop her head cracking heavily the hard wood as he hitches her legs up, still buried inside her. Her head does tip back when he withdraws and rams home, setting a pace that is both demanding and ridiculously satisfying.

"How am I doing at improving my so-called failings?" He questions, grin threatening to split his face as the woman beneath him can only respond with a heady moan. He contents himself with just watching, the slow-burning pleasure in his gut coiling and growing into something that suggests his release and the resulting pleasurable oblivion is just around the corner. 

Wash's nails dig into his shoulders in encouragement, the sharp pin pricks of pain only enhancing his desire to bring them both to completion. He alters his angle the slightest amount so that he catches her clit with each thrust and it's this added stimulation that sends her crying out into the back of her hand, muscles contracting around him as he works towards his own end. When he reaches the peak he bites down hard on her shoulder, muffling the roar that he doesn't dare vocalise. Another throaty moan escapes her when he does so, her back arching and pressing herself more firmly into him before they both collapse onto the support of the table.

Wash's fingers smooth through the hair at the back of his head as they catch their breath, her lips curved into a smile against his cheek. "So, do I pass my evaluation?"

"You got any of those gold stars you give your survival kids lying around?"

Her resulting laugh, somewhere between amusement and irritation at being mocked, is music to his ears. "I'll be sure to award myself one when we get home, sir."

He smiles, presses a kiss to her sternum and rises so that she can redress. "You do that, lieutenant. And now if you don't mind, I'll finish these damn reports."

She presses a kiss to his cheek. "Don't mind at all, sir. Once I clean up I've got a poker game to get to, asses to kick. The usual."

"Do that and there'll be more than a gold star waiting for you at home." He calls after her, the laughter that echoes back to him making his evening's work seem all the more unpalatable.


End file.
